


Waiting Room

by zacekova



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Doctor Sakura, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Meetings, Hospitals, I never know how to tag the names of these friggin characters, M/M, WHO ARE THEY???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 23:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19029823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacekova/pseuds/zacekova
Summary: Kurogane had been crammed in a tiny, uncomfortably stiff hospital chair for almost two hours now, nothing to do but track the people coming in and out of the lobby — doctors and nurses delivering news, family and friends coming and going with snacks and drinks or arriving to wait like Kurogane or bundling off with their patched-up loved ones — the overflowing room slowly dwindling down over the hours to just a few mildly injured patients like Syaoran, and one, lone man over by the windows who’d been pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Endlessly, relentlessly, anxiously, for two hours and probably then some, long before the two of them had shown up, if Kurogane were any judge of the tension in the man’s shoulders and the lines of worry on his face.





	Waiting Room

**Author's Note:**

> My seventh Tsubasa anniversary was a couple of days ago and Hymn ~~asked~~ strong-armed me into writing something in celebration. I said I’d maybe throw together a drabble and then my hand slipped two thousand times. 
> 
> This has gone through the most minor of editing and it’s silly. Don’t expect much.

The man by the windows was still pacing. 

Kurogane had been crammed in a tiny, uncomfortably stiff hospital chair for almost two hours now, and unable to move for half of it after Syaoran slumped over against his shoulder and fell asleep. The young man had taken a nasty slice to the forearm after failing to dodge Kurogane’s blade, and though it hadn’t been too deep Kurogane knew it was best to have it looked over by a professional to prevent any lasting damage. His student held so much promise, even still after having learned so much, and Kurogane wasn’t about to risk that potential out of laziness.

So, since the bleeding had mostly stopped by the time they’d arrived, and there’d been a massive pileup out on the freeway that morning, Syaoran’s injury had been deemed low enough of a priority that the two had been sent to wait out in the nearest lobby until a nurse was free to check him over. And though the kid — who, yes, wasn’t really a kid anymore, but the nickname had stuck — had boundless reserves of energy, he also had a knack for falling asleep whenever he stopped moving for too long, so Kurogane had become his impromptu pillow when Syaoran had passed out an hour earlier.

The fact that wary, orphaned Syaoran — who’d reminded Kurogane of his own younger, furious, walled-off self back when they’d met — had come to trust him so much made something warm and content settle in Kurogane’s chest.

In the meantime, though, he was stuck waiting, nothing to do but track the people coming in and out of the lobby — doctors and nurses delivering news, family and friends coming and going with snacks and drinks or arriving to wait like Kurogane or bundling off with their patched-up loved ones — the overflowing room slowly dwindling down over the hours to just a few mildly injured patients like Syaoran, and that one, lone man over by the windows who’d been pacing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Endlessly, relentlessly, anxiously, for two hours and probably then some, long before the two of them had shown up, if Kurogane were any judge of the tension in the man’s shoulders and the lines of worry on his face.

He was radiating dread, uneasy, nauseous terror creeping up the wall of his rigid spine. The growing resignation, the slow surrender to grief, called out to the corner of Kurogane’s heart where he treasured all the wise words of his  parents.

_ Our duty is to take care of the people brought to us by the gods, no matter the need. _

He shifted, ready to readjust Syaoran’s unconscious sprawl and go try and settle the man down, when the man tripped over nothing and fell to the floor. Kurogane jolted in his seat, an aborted move to catch him, but stopped before Syaoran's head could fall. As he watched, the man stayed hunched over on his hands and knees, blond hair hanging in a limp halo around his face and the muscles in his back going slack and weak and exhausted.

Kurogane sat up and gently eased Syaoran off his shoulder, leaving him slumped awkwardly in his chair while Kurogane walked across the room and crouched down in front of the man.

He held out a hand, close enough to be in the man’s line of vision. “Don’t decide the outcome before the gods have,” he murmured.

A wry, strangled chuckle sounded from the shadowy depths of the man’s hair. “I stopped believing in any gods a long time ago,” he said, but he sat up enough to latch onto Kurogane’s fingers with a desperate, vice-like grip, and wiped at his face with his free hand.

Kurogane shrugged. “The sentiment is still true. Don’t give up on them before you know if they’re even lost.”

There was another watery chuckle and the blond crown shook back and forth briefly. “The only reason I ever hoped for anything anymore was because I had him. I can’t keep doing it by myself,” he said, voice cracking by the end.

“You shouldn’t make someone else carry that kind of burden on their own,” Kurogane said, admonishing softly with the same words he’d heard his mother murmur to countless worshippers. “Especially not someone you care about so much.”

The man jerked his head up, eyes wide in surprise, and Kurogane inhaled sharply. Despite the salty tear tracks and blotchy red cheeks, there was no denying the man’s attractiveness — sparkling ocean blue eyes, clean, elegant features, and a tremulous, budding light of  _ life _ that came back into his expression with every slow second that passed as they looked at each other.

_ Gods _ , but he was beautiful.

“You—“ Kurogane stopped and swallowed, gaze roving over the man’s face, soaking in the details; he’d probably never see the man again but he wanted to remember. “You  _ haven’t _ lost him,” he finished, giving the fingers wrapped around his own a reassuring squeeze.

A few more tears welled up in the man’s eyes, but after a long moment he nodded, sucking in a shaky, but steadying breath, and squeezed Kurogane’s hand back.

They rose together, climbing up to their feet with their hands still clasped, and Kurogane led him over to the cluster of chairs where Syaoran was still mostly dead to the world.

“I’m Kurogane,” he said, somehow maneuvering Syaoran back to his shoulder one-handed since the man still had a death grip on the other one.

“Yuui,” the man murmured back, propping his free elbow up on the armrest and tipping his head into his hand. He shifted enough for the messy curtain of his hair to slide out of his face, turning to Kurogane.

Kurogane nodded, rolling the name over in his head and deciding he liked the sound of it. He shrugged the shoulder Syaoran rested against to draw attention to him. “This is Syaoran, my student. We had a bit of an accident while training earlier,” he said, hoping to either offer up a distraction for Yuui, or give him an excuse to talk about whatever had brought him to pacing up and down the waiting room for the last few hours.

Yuui’s eyes swept up and down Syaoran’s frame, a perceptive and curious light in them, and his lips curled up in a tiny, sincere smile. “He has a good soul. Pure and bright. Strong.”

Kurogane nodded, absently noting that Yuui must be a magic user in some capacity, and a good one at that, to be able to read someone’s soul energy in a matter of seconds without even the use of a spell. “Yeah,” he said, looking down at the mop of messy brown locks with fondness.

Yuui sighed, quiet and small, and his fingers tightened around Kurogane’s. “My twin… there was an accident this morning. Too much water on the road from the storm and a truck hydroplaned. I— all I know is he’s been in surgery since he arrived and—“ Yuui’s lip trembled and he turned to hide his face in his palm. “He’s all I have.”

Kurogane tightened his grip, hoping the touch was reassuring, grounding, and floundered for something to say. He’d been drawing on reserves of memory, faint traces of words he’d heard his mother speak to acolytes and worshippers at the shrine, but those were running dry. He was sure there had been plenty, but he’d never been around to hear a supplicant spill the fear of a loss so all-consuming.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kurogane finally settled on, no experience left to draw on but they way his mother sat with the grieving and anxious and broken for as long as they needed, sat at his own bedside for hours when Kurogane was sick or frightened of nightmares and unseen monsters in the dark, sat with his father when the weight of his duty became so heavy he could not drag himself out of their room in the morning.

Yuui didn’t answer, but some of the tension in his shoulders drained away and he slumped over to rest his head on his arm, spine arching over in the cramped hospital chairs.

Another thirty minutes passed like that, Syaoran still sleeping soundly and Yuui resting from his anxious pacing, hand still tangled with Kurogane’s, and Kurogane tried not to dwell too much on how Yuui’s presence made something under his skin tingle and thrum, something in his heart reach out with yearning, something in his eyes magnetize to that golden halo and two miniature blue skies. It really wasn’t the time or place, no matter how much a part of him wished they’d been able to meet under different circumstances.

The silent stillness was broken by an all-too familiar doctor emerging from the emergency room doors, gaze snagging on Kurogane and Syaoran with a brief frown, before spotting Yuui and making a beeline for him.

“Fluorite?” Sakura asked, once she was standing in front of them.

Yuui looked up, his own expression shockingly, uncomfortably blank as he slipped free of Kurogane’s hand — leaving it feeling strangely cold and empty — and stood. “Yes, I’m Fai’s brother.”

Sakura’s face eased into a happy smile, then, and she reached out to grasp one of Yuui’s hands in both of her own. “He’s going to be fine,” she said, knuckles going white as she squeezed him tightly.

Yuui dropped like a puppet whose strings were cut, his hand still wrapped up in Sakura’s two as his shoulders started shaking. Kurogane lurched forward — finally jostling Syaoran enough for him to wake with a surprised sputter — and rested his hand Yuui’s back, unsure of what else he could do.

Sakura kneeled down in front of Yuui, wrapping her arms around his head and murmuring reassurances over and over. “He’s okay, Yuui, Fai’s okay. You can go see him soon, as soon as he’s settled from the surgery. Not too long, now. He’s okay.”

Yuui’s breathing slowly settled, a couple harsh sniffles drifting out from under Sakura’s arms, and then he drew back a bit, pressing back into Kurogane’s palm and snagging Sakura’s hand in his own again. “I finally get to meet the great healer Sakura Li and it’s while I’m a sobbing mess,” he said, giving her a tremulous, drippy smile.

She smiled back, eyes sparkling with a mix of delight and sympathetic relief. “I would have been honored to meet the Flourite brothers in any circumstance, though I admit this is far from the best way. That’s why I am so grateful I can return him to you safely.”

Kurogane’s eyes widened in recognition, looking down at the slim back under his palm.  _ Fai and Yuui Fluorite _ . How had he failed to make that connection before now?

Kurogane was only aware of the magic users’ community peripherally for the most part, only knowing friends-of-friends and connections through his parents, but there were some names that everyone knew. Sakura, one of the greatest healers of her generation was one of them.

The Fluorite brothers, arguably the most powerful defensive users in the world, were another.

Yuui nodded, breathing out a gentle, reverent “thank you” in return, before pushing to his feet and straightening his clothes.

Sakura glanced over to the door where a nurse had appeared, gesturing toward Yuui with a patient smile. Sakura pointed Yuui’s attention over to him and Yuui inclined his head in thanks, striding halfway across the room before pausing suddenly, turning over his shoulder and locking eyes with Kurogane.

His gaze seemed hesitant, indecisive for a moment, but then he just mouthed another “thank you” and followed the nurse into the ward, leaving Kurogane staring after him, reminding his heart of the uselessness of its pained thump over saying farewell to a complete stranger. 

The sound of a shoe connecting firmly with someone’s ankle, followed closely by a sharp yelp, had Kurogane turning around, hiding a grin at the fierce look on Sakura’s face, hands on her hips as she loomed over Syaoran’s chair. 

“You! I thought I told you to be careful when you were training!” 

Syaoran tried to look contrite, but a spark of delight and fondness just from being in his wife’s presence kind of overrode the attempt. “Sorry.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Sakura bit out, snagging his hand and dragging him off toward an exam room. “This is the third time you’ve been here this year! It’s only April—!” and then the door shut behind them and Kurogane was left in the lobby by himself to wait again. 

He sank into the chair, prepared to wait through the long minutes Syaoran was sure to endure a thorough lecturing before even getting treatment, when a paper bird scooted itself under the emergency room door and flitted over to land in Kurogane’s upturned palm. He unfolded the paper to find a message addressed to him in elegant scrawl. 

 

_ Kurogane,  _

_ I’d like to buy you dinner as thanks for your kindness to me today. Sat. 7PM?  _

_ —Yuui Fluorite  _

 

There was a phone number scribbled below that, and Kurogane’s mouth curled up in a grin. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](https://zacekova.tumblr.com/). Feel free to scream at me about this fic, ask questions, or request prompts.


End file.
